


Once Bitten, Twice Shy

by HeartOfTheMirror



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood Drinking, Bloodlust, Blow Jobs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Vampire Bucky Barnes, Vampire Hunters, Vampire Natasha Romanov, Vampire Steve Rogers, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:45:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7783711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfTheMirror/pseuds/HeartOfTheMirror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve just wanted to move his mother into a nicer apartment where all the faucets worked. How was he supposed to know there was already another young vampire already living in the building?</p><p>Nothing was easy about being undead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hunger

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to the incomparable [ LoveMuffinLessThan3 ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveMuffinLessThan3/pseuds/LoveMuffinLessThan3)for all of her encouragement and feedback. This fic is unbeta'd.

Sarah Rogers took a shaky breath, trying not to lean too heavily on her son and knowing all the same that it was a lost cause. His hands were gentle, softer somehow than they had been when he was properly alive. It wasn’t what Sarah would have expected, not with the stories that had trickled past her ears in the Old Country.

That was how she knew that it was true. Her mind hadn’t flown off without her in a fit of fever. Even in her wildest dreams, she couldn’t have imagined this. Her son was a member of the undead. 

Really, Sarah mused as she wheezed her way up a few more stairs, that sort of thing could happen to anyone.

“There you are dear,” came a warm voice that sounded like butterscotch. Sarah smiled at the large woman holding open the door at the top of the landing. 

Mrs. Barnes, for a landlady, was not what Sarah expected. She was fat in a matronly way but that was the only thing about her that was what Sarah might call normal. Mrs. Barnes- “Winifred, please dear,”- was a well-worn women who smelled of soap and flour and good baking. In another time Sarah could see herself laughing over a steaming cup of coffee with a woman like that, the skin on their hands cracked from all the scrubbing of a mother’s day.

“There you are dear, steady on,” Mrs. Barnes (“For heaven’s sakes dear, call me Winifred,”) said, taking Sarah’s elbow to help her through the threshold when she stumbled. 

“I’m fine,” Sarah insisted lightly, trying to hide her pallor and fatigue uselessly. “I’m fine. Stop fussing, the both of you.”

“Please Mrs. Barnes,” Steve said, gently helping his mother to bed as though she were a wounded bird. 

“I just can’t stand to be called that, you know. I love my husband dearly, you understand, but his mother is another case entirely and I don’t mind telling you that. Every time I hear ‘Mrs.Barnes’ all I can think of is that awful woman’s sour face scowling at me at my own blessed wedding. So you can call me Winifred and that will do just fine.” Their landlady laughed as though it were all some kind of joke. Steve later came to wonder if that was a nervous habit on Mrs.Barnes part.

“Mrs.- Winifred, we, you’re very kind but my mother and I would really like some time to settle in now. Please.” Steve tried to smile winningly without showing any teeth.

Not that his fangs would show- he wasn’t in any distress and he was too tired to really be hungry. It was always a sweet ache when his canines descended and his mother had assured him several times that you had to really look to notice that they were sharper and longer than they ought to be. It wasn’t particularly dramatic, and unless you knew what to look for overlooking it or writing it off as a genetic quirk was the easiest thing in the world.

“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Barnes said as she breezed in and fluffed up the pillows and blankets around Sarah where she was reclining on the couch. Steve had moved all of their things and made things ready and comfortable while his mother had spent a few days laid up in a very respectable hotel being waited on hand and foot. 

Sarah had protested at the expense until her son’s stubbornness and practicality had worn her down. She was in no fit state to be left to her own devices and the former nurse knew it (even if she didn’t cherish the knowledge).

Winifred had thought it was a sweet gesture and asked Steve if his work minded all the time he took off to care for his mother.

“Oh no it’s not a problem at all,” Steve had said with one of his little closed-mouthed smiles. 

“Oh?” Winifred has said, “What is it that you do Mr.Rogers?” 

“Oh,” Steve had said, faltering so badly he nearly dropped the box he was carrying. “Just… business. Y’know.” And he’d shrugged awkwardly and hurried away before she could question him further.

Well, Steve seemed like a good lad to Winifred and she didn’t mind that he was clearly a member of one of the Irish gangs (probably did the books, she figured, because he looked like the sort who might happily spend an evening meticulously pouring over numbers). So long as he kept his ‘business’ well away from her doorstep and paid his rent on time Winifred didn’t mind what else he got up do. She had a soft spot for boys who took care of their mothers.

“Mrs.- I mean Winifred?” Steve said tentatively but with his signature air of determination. “The faucet in the bathroom? You said you had a guy who could take a look at it? We’d really appreciate it, ma’am.”

“Of course!” Winifred said, smacking her own thigh through her dress as she remembered. “I’ll have James come ‘round first thing tomorrow. I forgot he said he was picking up some extra shifts. He’s a hardworking boy, our James. Won’t take a penny from me or his father and hasn’t since the day he got his first job. Can’t stand to be idle, that boy,” Winifred said, wringing her hands on her apron.

“Always happy to help out,” she was quick to add. “Just like your Steven, Mrs. Rogers.”

“You must call me Sarah,” Sarah insisted with a tired but genuine smile. 

It took a few more minutes of pleasantries and chatter to get Mrs. Barnes out the door for good. As soon as Steve heard her steps down the stairs he rushed for the kitchen and grabbed the little boning knife, slicing his arm halfway between his wrist and his elbow. He ran back to his mother, holding it aloft and being very careful not to spill any of the precious blood.

Sarah rolled her eyes but let her son press the wound to her lips. After only a few delicate sips she pushed him away and waved off his concern. 

“I knew the move would be too much,” Steve muttered as he felt her brow for fever.

“I feel fine,” Sarah insisted. Steve shot his mother a sarcastic look and she laughed. It turned into a cough that sent Steve rushing back to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Sarah drank half before she turned her head and forced Steve to put down the glass. 

“We both know I’m dying,” she told Steve, taking his cold hands in hers. “I’m not afraid of it. And I know what you want to offer but my answer hasn’t changed. I was born human and that’s how I’ll greet God at the end.” Steve nodded and said nothing. He’d long ago accepted that mortality was his mother’s choice. And despite some spectacular arguments after he was first changed, secretly he couldn’t blame her.

Small amounts of his blood would keep the worst of the illness at bay and help her remain comfortable but it was only a matter of time. Steve wasn’t ready to let her go.  
Sarah reached up to brush some hair out of his eyes. 

“I want you to know I’m proud of you,” Sarah said quietly. “You’re a good man and I’m very proud of who you’ve become.” Steve took his mother’s hand and tried to think of something to say. He wasn’t the man either of them thought he would become. He didn’t know who he would be without her.

…

Bucky sighed as he hoofed it up the stairs. The new tenants had insisted on a second story apartment. For safety reasons, Mr. Rogers said. Well, Bucky guessed, the second story wouldn’t be as close to the sounds of the alley but they’d never had a break in or anything. The Barnes’s building was as safe as any in Brooklyn. 

And Ma had told them about the leaky faucet in the bathroom, first thing. But Mr. Rogers had insisted. And Ma had given him the eyebrow that meant she thought what Mr. Rogers had insisted should be taken seriously. “She’s a woman prone to flights of fancy,” George Barnes often told his son, “but humor her because you never know when a woman’s intuition might lead to something.” 

Bucky only wished his mother’s intuition hadn’t lead to Bucky climbing a flight of stairs to fix a faucet the morning after he worked a double shift at the docks. 

He set down the dented toolbox on the landing outside the door to the apartment. It was rusted in one corner and the dull red paint was chipped all over but they’d found it when old Mr.Anderson had moved out two tenants ago. As George Barnes was fond of saying, “You can’t argue with free.” 

Bucky shook his head like he had water clogged in his ears, smacking his temple with the heel of his hand. His mind kept doing that lately, going foggy like, and then focusing in on mundane things until he realized he’d been standing in the same spot staring into space like a dunce. Or worse, sitting at the dinner table not eating. There was no surer way to worry Winifred Barnes.

Bucky did his best not to be home at dinner time anymore. He was ravenous all the time but he had to baby himself into eating, careful with what he chose like he had the flu. And even when he stuffed himself to bursting spoonful by careful spoonful he never felt really full. 

It had been months since the incident. Bucky really thought he should be over it by now.

He knocked on the door politely, just to prove how normal he could be.

“Mr. Rogers?” he called, pitching his voice to carry. Friendly, but efficient. Bucky was always real cautious with his words, with the way he spoke to bosses, cops, and new tenants. Most of the people the Barnes’s had boarded were a good enough sort but some folks would take an inch and run for a mile. Whoever this new fella was, wise guy or not, Bucky didn’t want him getting any ideas about shoving the Barnes’s around or skimping on rent.

“Mr. Rogers?” Bucky called again after a long moment of contemplation. “It’s Bucky Barnes, your landlord’s son? I’m here to see about that faucet.” This time, Bucky heard a noise from within the apartment. There was a scrambling, then a long yawn as someone shuffled to the door.

It opened to reveal a slight, short blond man with rumpled hair and a sleepy smile. Bucky’s heart started hammering immediately.

There was something wrong. Rogers frowned, a furrow in his brow and something in Bucky was screaming _danger, run, run, this thing can take you_ but that was ridiculous. Bucky was twice this guy’s size but his hands were shaking. Rogers hissed- by God hissed- through his suddenly elongated fangs, stepping forward and grabbing Bucky by the lapels. 

It was like the alley all over again. The numb cool terror and shaking confusion. Bucky fought to drag a breath in but it felt like his whole throat had been glued shut. _This can’t be happening_ Bucky thought wildly. _Not again_. 

Rogers muscled Bucky up against the wall blocking the door to the apartment with his slight frame like he didn’t want Bucky seeing inside. Bucky lifted up his numb hands to push at Rogers’ shoulders, kitten weak. A small sound of terror escaped his throat before he could stop it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Rogers demanded as if Bucky hadn’t just damn well told him.

“Tryin’ out for the Dodger’s,” Bucky snapped sarcastically, “you the bat boy?” He was trying desperately to keep the screaming in his head from sucking him under. It had been weeks since the last time he’d had an episode. Bucky wasn’t about to let this little prick fuck that up for him. Bucky was sure he’d imagined the fangs. It was stress- exhaustion- he’d imagined the-

Rogers made a guttural sound, his lips curling back around those unnaturally sharp elongated canines. _Oh God > Bucky thought, _it’s real_. There was a creature in his mother’s apartment building and it was going to puts its hands all over him and kill him and eat him. Rogers shook Bucky so hard his head banged painfully against the wall._

“The… faucet…” Bucky gasped. His whole world was spinning. He wasn’t sure if it was the blow to his head or just the fact that he couldn’t breathe from the sheer terror. Even his heartfelt scared to beat behind the cage of his ribs. He knew an episode was starting and once it got hold of him he’d be completely at Rogers’s mercy. Nonetheless, Bucky was helpless to pull himself out of it. 

Rogers scoffed. “Don’t get cute pal,” he warned, shaking Bucky again like a terrier. “I checked the territories before I moved. I put in my claim same as any other guy so don’t think you can fool me around. There aren’t supposed to be any other clans anywhere near this building 

“I told the Cartographer I wanted to be left well alone and he promised there wasn’t a claim within five blocks of this place. So you start talking,” Rogers insisted, shaking Bucky again. 

“I’m sorry, I-I… I just,” Bucky babbled in a rush, feeling his knees knock together abstractly. He was somewhere outside of his own body, too detached to be properly afraid, but not able to pull himself together either. 

There was nothing of Bucky left in the hallway, just a cowering animal who couldn’t escape the stench of its own fear. “I didn’t know, I swear to God I didn’t. Please just don’t hurt me. Don’t leave me for my Ma to find.” Part of Bucky felt tiny and shamed and weak at how easily he’d broken this time but it had only been three months since the incident. 

He still remembered the old garbage stink of the alley he’d been pushed into, the buildings so tight together he wouldn’t have been able to stand shoulder to shoulder with the thing that was on him. His bravado hadn’t done him a damn bit of good then either. That thing grabbed him right off the street and threw him around like a ragdoll. 

Bucky’d fought, with every last bit of strength in him, with every reserve he’d had, Bucky had fought. But he’d been pinned up against that rough brick quicker and easier than his ma pinned drawers on the line to dry. The man was slick and rough. Bucky hadn’t even thought to be afraid for his virtue until he felt his shirt being ripped off like tissue paper, his good suspenders snapping back and stinging at his skin. 

The man had made shushing noises as he’d stuffed the remnants of the shirt in Bucky’s mouth with one hand and kept his wrists pinned overhead with the other. 

That’s a good boy,” the man had cooed once he’d knotted Bucky’s sleeves behind his head to keep him from spitting out the gag. He tweaked Bucky’s nipple roughly with an almost affectionate look. Like intimate teasing between old friends. 

“It didn’t work out with the last boy I tried this on but I can tell you’re different. You’re a fighter aren’t you, pretty?” The man said stroking Bucky’s flank. Bucky trembled, thrashed, kicked out, but none of it made a difference. The creep didn’t even react to the blows. 

“That’s it!” the man chuckled, pleased as anything. “I knew I had it right this time. You’ll make it through. I know it.” 

Bucky thought he’d be sick if he felt the fucker’s hands go anywhere near his belt. He’d ralph and choke on it behind the gag, die there in that rancid trash-filled alley, he thought despairingly. They’d find his body roughed up and used in a day or two and then what would his parents think? They’d lived in DUMBO Bucky’s whole life. God-fearing Irish or not, they knew the types that went around. They said peace-be-with-you’s to Clem and his boy David every Sunday, knowing, without a doubt, those two would be confirmed bachelors for life. 

George and Winifred Barnes knew full well what young men sometimes did for extra money too. Bucky couldn’t bare it if some cop told them that was how Bucky’d gotten himself in trouble. As if they couldn’t provide well enough for him, or his job somehow didn’t pay well enough to cover his minimal expenses. 

Then Bucky stopped thinking anything because the creature had let go of Bucky’s hands. It shoved his head to one side and sank its teeth into Bucky’s neck, gnashing its jaws and ripping into Bucky’s soft, vulnerable flesh. It wasn’t just pain. He felt like acid was being pumped into his veins, every nerve was screaming as his flesh was being seared and torn. He couldn’t move a muscle, even to scream. Even to draw breath. 

He wet himself as the thing came up to lick its lips and then sank them in again in a fresh what curve of flesh. 

He didn’t know how long it went on. Bucky woke up in a puddle of his own blood and piss still gagged in his own ruined shirt. A light cool rain was coming down from the thin strip of sky between the buildings. 

His pants were just as he’d left them. His wallet was still in his front right pocket, undisturbed. He scraped himself up to his knees clutching at the crumbling brick wall. For several long eternities, Bucky was so ashamed he couldn’t move. Couldn’t leave the alley and go out into the street where he might face people and where they might see what he’d done, what had been done to him, what’d he’d become. 

But that thing might come back. Might come looking for Bucky just where it had left him. 

Bucky quickly used the remains of his shirt to clean off the worst of the blood. There were no wounds underneath. The rain helped him feel a little cleaner but it was really coming down now and Bucky was shaking from the cold. He’d never felt so tired or hungry or sick in his life but he couldn’t stay where the nightmare creature might find him. 

Bucky kept his head down and stopped in the first second-hand shop he saw. There were plenty in this part of town, thank God. Buck had always been a good bullshitter, so all he had to do was stammer something about his old lady tossing him out on his ear and the sympathetic old man behind the counter had stuffed some warm dry clothes into Bucky’s arms and let him change in the dressing room and toss the old ones. 

“Hey breathe with me,” someone was saying, his voice rippling through the thick fog, hands on Bucky’s face pulling him out of the thick sickly spell of the memory. Bucky blinked looking up into blue eyes. That was funny. Bucky didn’t remember sitting down. 

"That’s it, you’re doing good,” Rogers cooed, rubbing his knuckles down Bucky’s arm. At some point, Bucky must have drawn his knees up tight to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, curled in tight like a ball. 

“Steve?” came a woman’s voice from inside the apartment. “Honey, what’s going on?” Sarah Rogers poked her head out smiling in a nervous but hopeful way at the boys crouched outside her apartment. Much like her son, Sarah Rogers didn’t believe there was a single fight on planet Earth that wasn’t her personal responsibility to resolve. 

"Go back inside, Ma,” Rogers said in that same soothing voice. 

Bucky had known somewhere in the back of his head that Rogers was living with his sickly mother but he’d been so full of panic he hadn’t even thought about her after the door had opened. The woman was human. Bucky had no idea how he could tell the difference with such intense certainty but it was plain as day to him just by looking. She was living with this monstrosity and it could be doing anything to her. Killing her slowly, bite by bite. 

There was no time for hesitation. Bucky threw himself at the creature, and to his equal surprise and pleasure, it actually fell backward under Bucky’s weight with a startled “oof”. 

“Run!” Bucky shouted. “This is your chance! I’ll hold ‘im off as long as I can!” Bucky punched the creature in its slackened mouth and kept punching as Sarah Rogers sighed and gathered up her long skirt in one hand. She kicked at Bucky’s flank gently, knowing better than to get her face or hands too close to two men fighting (even if it was just one pummeling the other). 

“Run!” Bucky shouted at her again, looking over his shoulder wildly, his hair falling in his eyes. 

“You’re both vampires,” Sarah said in her most deadpan voice. “This is terribly frightening.” 

While Bucky was distracted Steve took the chance to wipe at some of the blood that had trickled into his eyes from his busted nose. With no warning, Steve clocked Bucky a good one, right in the temple.  
Bucky fell to his side, staring dully as fairy lights danced around Sarah Rogers’ shoes. 

“Steve,” Sarah hissed with the full weight of motherly disappointment. _Better you than me buddy_ Bucky thought nonsensically. “That was completely unnecessary,” Sarah scorned. She kneeled down by Bucky and touched gingerly at where he was already starting to bruise up. 

“Come inside sweetie and let me put a steak on that for you,” she said to Bucky. “I promise there won’t be any violence in my apartment.” Sarah glared at her son who was still grumbling and wiping blood from under his nose with his cuff. 

“There won’t be any violence in my apartment, will there be Steven Grant Rogers?” Sarah said in a tone that informed heaven, hell, and every poor sinner on Earth that there was only one correct answer to that question. 

“No ma’am,” Steve mumbled. Long practice had taught him when to pick his battles (at least with his mother). 

“Well that settles that,” Sarah said breezily. “Let’s get you inside sweetheart,” she said to Bucky. He could do nothing but comply as she helped him to his feet and lead him into the kitchen. He wobbled, just barely keeping himself from leaning on the frail woman. 

Sarah set Bucky down on one of the chairs at the kitchen table and pulled a thick steak out of the refrigerator and pressed it gently to his head. Bucky took hold of the steak with a wince. He’d been feeling more and more scrambled since the incident in the alley but this really took the cake. He couldn’t make heads or tails of his own ass with the state his noggin was in. 

“I can’t believe you invited him inside,” Steve said in an undertone to his mother. His arms were crossed and he was watching Bucky suspiciously. Bucky gave in to the childish urge to flip him off before his rattled brains could tell him not to. 

Steve made a face at him but Bucky was distracted from the Rogers’ bickering by the feeling of something cool sliding down the side of his face. Without thinking Bucky swiped his tongue out to wipe it away. It was salty, delicious and so god damn refreshing. Bucky caught the trail of moisture it left behind on his cheek with his finger and sucked it in his mouth, suddenly ravenous in a way that frightened him. 

The steak was the only thing on his mind. He was biting into it, sucking on it like he could drain the taste out by will alone. He bit down again, unsatisfied. His gums ached. His eyes were dry. All of him felt dry, actually, creaky and used up. 

“The poor boy is starving for fuck’s sake!” Sarah shouted in a burst of exasperation. Bucky felt abruptly ashamed. 

“Ma!” Steve exclaimed, looking at Bucky uneasily. 

Bucky set the stake down on the kitchen table and kicked his chair back away from it as if he could distance himself from what he’d just been caught doing. Sucking on a raw steak for fuck’s sakes. No wonder he’d shocked a nice lady like Sarah Rogers into swearing, behavior like that. He’d probably just imaged the fangs too. Maybe he even imaged what happened in the alley. He’d heard that abused kids and frail women did that sometimes, when they couldn’t handle the truth. Maybe all this was him just cracking up. Seeing things that weren’t there, remembering things that didn’t happen. 

“I’m sorry Mrs.Rogers. That knock to the head must have shook me up more than I thought, doin’ a thing like that. My ma feeds me plenty, you don’t gotta worry ‘bout us.” Bucky stood, leaning one hand heavily on the table as one of those cramps took hold of his stomach. It was like a fist clenching in his guts and twisting them all around inside him. 

“You feed off your _ma_?” Steve asked incredulously as Sarah said, 

“Sit down boy, what are you thinking?” and rushed to Bucky’s side to guide him back to the chair. The pain and the cramping didn’t go away but it was easier to take once he was off his feet. “Steve, we need to feed this boy,” Sarah said, her voice low and sure. 

“I’m not hungry, we aint that poor,” Bucky protested, trying to get to his feet again. He was so weak and woozy Sarah was able to push him down without much effort. 

“Stop playing dumb,” Steve said irritably. He came to stand in front of Bucky and waved his mother off. Incredibly, Sarah actually followed her son’s direction and walked out of the kitchen calling,  
“I’ll just leave you boys to it,” over her shoulder. 

“What?” Bucky said, in a state of total confusion and lingering fear. 

“Don’t expect this on the regular or anything,” Steve warned sternly as he unbuttoned his left shirt cuff and rolled it up a couple of times. He sounded for anything like a prim and proper dame who was aout to let her steady get to second base. “I’m only doing it because it’s dangerous to leave you starving like this in a building full of ordinary people. You really shouldn’t let it get this bad again.” Steve’s last words were muffled as he bit into his own wrist. Bucky startled badly, jumping back and nearly upsetting his chair. Steve leaned over Bucky inhumanly fast, gripping the back of the chair to steady it as Bucky’s lungs worked like a bellows. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ touch me,” Bucky said, shoving at Steve. Steve was ready for him this time though and didn’t budge. “You get that away from me!” Bucky screamed as Steve brought his bloody wrist closer to Buck’s mouth invitingly. 

Steve rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to make a sarcastic comment but then suddenly stopped. He regarded Bucky with a newfound intensity. 

“Have you never fed before?” Steve asked cautiously. 

“On blood?” Bucky spat. “I’m not some kind of disgusting freak like you! Is this how you get your kicks, huh? You lure guys in here and make ‘em drink your fucking blood like it’s some kind of actual food?” Bucky didn’t try to get away. He knew he couldn’t, not with Steve’s speed and strength. But he was beginning to think just maybe he could talk his way out of this one the way he hadn’t been able to last time. He just had to keep his head together and keep holding his breath. Not let that delicious smell in. 

His stomach rumbled. His cheeks flushed at his own body’s untimely betrayal. 

“I better get home, I think ma’s making biscuits,” Bucky tried desperately, but Steve was already sitting on his knees, holding on to the back of the chair for dear life and trapping him there. 

Bucky’s eyes darted down to Steve’s wrist and he swallowed thickly. His gums hurt. His mouth felt dry. His eyelids were heavy. Bucky forced himself to look away. 

“Bucky,” Steve said seriously, drawing Bucky’s eyes up to his. “I’m not sure how you failed to notice this, but the fact is you’re a vampire. You need blood to survive. Without it you’ll become crazy, unpredictable and desperate. You need to feed right now. This is not an option. I’m sorry." 

“No!” Bucky screamed, angling his head away despite the shivery awareness that he was opening up his neck to this monster on top of him. There was a little voice in the back of Bucky’s head telling him he hadn’t fought hard enough last time but maybe this time if he fought harder, if he just got lucky, maybe… 

But Steve had already grabbed Bucky’s face with his free hand, putting pressure on the sensitive corner of his jaw and forcing his mouth open just enough for a few drops of blood to sneak in when Steve rubbed his bitten wrist all over Bucky’s lips. 

Bucky made an ungodly sound, something like lust and something like pain. He gripped Steve’s arm with both hands, hunching over it like a territorial dog with a bone. No matter how mouthwatering it had smelled, the taste was a thousand- a hundred thousand- times better. He lapped and sucked at that beautiful, warm deliciousness and it felt like a live wire going all the way down to his toes, making his hair stand on end. He hadn’t realized how dried up and dead he felt until suddenly he was coming alive. 

He scraped his teeth against Steve’s wrist absently wondering how to get more, if maybe chewing just a little would relieve the itchy ache in his gums. Steve smacked him soundly on the head.  
“No teeth,” he admonished Bucky sharply. 

Bucky sucked harder instead, desperate to get as much as he could before it was taken away. He moaned into Steve’s skin at the rush, the warmth, and the taste. He felt a hand begin petting at his hair and making soothing noises. A cold chill ran down Bucky’s spine and he tried to pull away from the petting without losing his food. Just a little more and he’d finally be full at last… 

Bucky pulled away shuddering, drawing deep breaths, wild-eyed. 

Steve, the ever-loving fucking bastard, had the gall to grin at him. 

“Feeling better?” Steve asked like he was at all concerned with how Bucky was feeling. 

In retaliation Bucky abruptly stood and dumped Steve off his lap, sending him to the floor on his boney ass. He wiped at the mess of blood around his mouth with shaky fingers, trying to spit it out. He knew in his heart it was too late. 

He wasn’t weak anymore. Or Unfocused. He felt more alive than he ever had, even before the incident. 

He could sense Mrs. Rogers standing in the threshold that led to the living room, covering her mouth with one pale delicate hand. Bucky couldn’t indulge her with a fine show of company manners, though. Steve was staring up at him from the kitchen floor, utterly bewildered (not that it lasted long). 

“I am not like you,” Bucky hissed. “I don’t know where you get off,” he seethed, stepping closer to where Steve sat. Steve was on his feet in less than a heartbeat. Oddly, though Bucky was aware of how unnaturally fast the motion was, he was also able to track it perfectly. 

“Buddy I don’t know where _you_ get off!” Steve yelled. “Wandering around starving yourself half to death and pretending you’re still human. What you’re doing in dangerous and you need to take responsibility for that before I have to make a complaint to the Council. Just you wait until I tell the Cartographer you’re unregistered! You’ll be paying fines and doing Council service for decades!” 

“There’s a- there’s a council?” Bucky asked, wrongfooted. How many of these things were there, after all? Did they all know where he lived? Was his family even safe? 

“Didn’t your maker teach you anything?” Steve asked, his brows deeply furrowed and his hands clenched in his pockets as he fought the urge to do something stupid (like hit the fanged ingrate standing stupidly in his kitchen). 

Bucky blanched at the thought of the man who’d made him… whatever he was. “Do you know who did this to me?” he asked in a voice that ground itself over rocks to get out. 

“Do I…” Steve looked over at his mother, acutely aware that he was out of his depth. 

“Bucky, honey,” Sarah said, stepping into the kitchen and coming to their rescue. “Am I to understand it that you don’t know the vampire who changed you?” Bucky nodded, hesitantly, keeping an eye on Steve the whole time. “So you don’t have a clan?” Sarah asked sympathetically. Bucky wiped at his mouth again. 

“No ma’am,” he said instead of any of the stupid things he wanted to say (like, “They come in clans?!”). 

“And I take it you were just a regular Joe when all this happened to you and you don’t know much about vampires at all, do you?” Sarah laid a hand sympathetically on Bucky’s shoulder. It made Steve’s jaw clench like he didn’t like the idea of Bucky touching his mother. 

“Not a damn thing ma’am,” Bucky said honestly, meeting Sarah Rogers’s eye and leaning into her touch with the closest approximation to a smile he could pull out. 

“Well, that settles things. We have to introduce you to Natasha. She’s a truly lovely girl and I’m sure the two of you will get on thick as thieves. 

“Ma, no,” Steve said with the kind of dawning horror that was hilarious to witness because the fucking _vampire_ who had knocked Bucky around like a tin can in an alley was whining because his ma told him to make friends and play nice. 

“Hush,” Sarah said to her son. “I’m sorry Bucky but it really isn’t safe for a lone vampire out there. And, certainly, not one that isn’t registered with the Council. You need someone to explain things to you. Steve will be happy to show you the ropes. Won’t you Steve?” It wasn’t quite the same tone Sarah had used in the hallway but there was still a steely glint in her eye. 

As much as Steve instinctively wanted to argue he knew his ma was right. It wasn’t ethical or safe to leave a newborn vampire running around Brooklyn like a loose cannon. 

“I’ll take you over to Natasha’s tonight. No sense in delaying the inevitable.” 

“Who said I was going?” Bucky challenged, squaring his shoulders to Steve. “No offense, ma’am,” Bucky said to Sarah, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me but I just want to be a regular guy. I don’t want anything to do with this vampire horse hockey. I never did.” 

“I’m so sorry Bucky,” Sarah said, cupping his cheek, “But it’s much too late for that. What’s done can’t be undone.” Bucky clenched his jaw, looking away from Sarah and swallowing. 

“Natasha has a deal with a butcher who lives down the block from her. You can feed without having to bite anyone. Just pour yourself a glass like it’s grape juice and then there’s no more headaches, no more dizziness, or fixations, or weakness. Do the smart thing, mo bhuachaill. Don’t put the people around you in danger.” Bucky wavered as Sarah reached forward and gently cupped his cheek. 

“I’m not promising anything,” Bucky said cautiously. “But I’ll meet her.” Sarah smiled warmly at Bucky. Steve just sighed and grabbed his jacket. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter to warm myself back up to this story after the Stucky Big Bang!

Natasha Romanoff lived in one one the nicest brownstones Bucky had ever seen. Just walking down the street she lived on made Bucky feel like a criminal. He was half certain that a cop was gonna come around the corner and ask him what the hell he thought he was doing in that neighborhood. 

Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets and stood on the stoop, preparing himself to wait in the chill autumn air. But Steve just pulled his keys out if his coat pocket and let himself in as though he owned the place. 

The hallway was nicer than Bucky’s entire home. There was a soft pink paint that complemented the warm, rich wooden floor and offset the gilt mirror on the wall across from the spindly little table that was just large enough for a vase of fresh flowers- lilies and forget-me-nots Bucky thought.

“Natasha,” Steve called as he hung up his jacket on the elegant coat rack (what was Bucky’s life that he was thinking of a fucking coat rack as elegant?). “I brought a friend over. I really want you to meet him.” Bucky scoffed and Steve glared at him from the corner of his eye. Friends, sure.

Bucky kept his jacket on and followed Steve into the kitchen. The place was beautiful like a picture out of one of those homemaking magazines his mother loved.

“Tasha come on, don’t be cross with me,” Steve called, taking a glass out from a cupboard and a half full bottle of Russian Vodka from the refrigerator, pouring a generous amount.

Bucky breathed out harshly through his nose, gritting his teeth. The nerve of this mook, walking in like he owned the place, taking this poor woman’s booze. 

“Steve, you know how I feel about guests. Unannounced. In my home.” Bucky whipped his head around to the door. In the second he’d been glaring at Steve the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen had managed to slip soundlessly into the room. She was wearing a form-fitting black dress with a red bow. A soft white fur was thrown over her shoulders, as though Steve had been just about to step out when Steve had come calling.

Her eyebrows were pinched in the way the Bucky knew from experience meant a woman was pissed even as she was smiling.

Also, she was a fucking vampire. And she knew he was one too, he could tell by the way she sized him up.

“Who’s this charmer?” Natasha asked coyly, flicking her eyes to Bucky and away and toying with her fur.

“James Barnes, ma’am,” Bucky said with his best dance hall smile. “I told this tiny goon not to bother you. You probably noticed by now how thick headed he can be.” That got him a sharp elbow in the ribs from a scowling Steve.

Natasha laughed, sitting down in one of the chairs at her little kitchen table and leaning her chin on her knuckles. “Tell me about it, cutie,” Natasha said grinning at Bucky.

Steve stepped forward and Natasha held out her hand to take the glass of vodka from him.

“So you’re the one in charge of this operation,” Bucky said wonderingly. Natasha gave her a sly grin- nothing like her sweet close-lipped smiles from before and downed the entire glass in one go. 

“I am the matron of this clan,” Natasha told him as she set her glass deliberately down on the table. “And if Steve’s bringing you to me that must mean this is official clan business.” 

Bucky glanced between Steve and Natasha. 

“I found him starving to death. He didn’t even know what he was, Nat,” Steve said.

“Is this true?” Nat asked, moving her sharp eyes to Bucky.

“I was…” Bucky swallowed back the words that didn’t want to come, and the panic that most definitely did. “Attacked. I don’t know who. I woke up in the alley in the morning and the bites were mostly healed. I convinced myself it was some kind of nightmare until Steve…” 

“Fed you,” Natasha supplied. “I can smell his blood on your breath from here. I was ready to rip your throat out for that when you first walked in here,” Natasha said casually. “Steve, you really should warn a girl.”

“Wasn’t time,” Steve answered with an unaffected shrug. “Clan leaders can be a little protective,” he said in an aside to Bucky.

“So James,” Natasha said, “Do you want to join our clan? Become one with the night? Bite some fainting maidens?” 

“No,” Bucky spat immediately. “I don’t want to bite anyone, that’s why I came! Mrs. Rogers said you had a deal with a butcher…” Bucky looked between Steve and Natasha. Steve sighed, his shoulders slumping from their permanent squared-and-ready-to-go posture. 

“You used the old butcher trick?” Natasha asked Steve, sounding amused. She quirked an eyebrow at him.

“We had to do something!” Steve said defensively. “He wouldn’t even agree to come meet you otherwise.” Natasha snorted.

“I like him. He’s kind of stupid. He’ll fit right in,” Natasha decided, as if it were really that simple. As if that was all it took for him to be accepted into this woman’s life. Her clan.

“You’re telling me,” Bucky said quietly, furious, “that this was all a setup from the beginning?” 

“Relax,” Natasha said easily, throwing her fur over the back of her chair and losing her coy flirtatious edge. It was hard to tell with a woman like Natasha, who was so good at showing people whatever she wanted them to see, but Bucky was pretty sure all that flirtation had been a test. A way of buttering him up and throwing him off his game to see if he’d say or do something revealing. Men were prone to be at their stupidest and least suspicious around women they found attractive, he supposed.

“Steve did the right thing. Animal blood was never going to satisfy you. In the short term, it can curb the worst of the symptoms but it’s not a feasible long term solution. It just doesn’t have everything we need. Neither does regular food. They both only delay the inevitable. 

“Eventually you would starve enough that you would lose your grip on your mind. Then, when you’re at your weakest, you would do anything to make the pain stop. Even kill. Do you want that on your conscience?” Natasha asked him. 

Wrongfooted, Bucky couldn’t think of anything to say except. “I wouldn’t have. I won’t. I would rather die of the hunger. I won’t hurt anyone.” 

“Sometimes what you want doesn’t matter. What you need becomes more important,” Natasha said. There was a deep melancholy to the words that Bucky couldn't begin to understand.

She paused and then, ”My old clan didn’t care how many people they hurt. They stole me as a child. I still don’t remember anything from before they had me and I doubt if I ever will. But I remember how, just after they turned me, they locked me up in a basement and starved me for months. No food. No blood. They threw a woman in that room with me. I didn’t remember her face but I knew the smell of her. It was my mother.” Bucky swallowed thickly. Natasha’s voice hadn’t betrayed much emotion but Bucky could feel it in the air, in the stillness of Steve beside him. Bucky’s eyes met hers and he saw the pain of an old wound, never really healed, never fully out of mind.

“I was a child. I didn’t want to hurt anyone but what I _wanted_ became irrelevant. I did what I needed to do. They were monsters,” Natasha said, locking her eyes on Bucky’s still. 

“They slaughtered people, turned them on a whim, tortured everyone around them regardless of whether they were vampire, or human, or something else entirely. When I came to the New World I told myself I was going straight. I’m never going to be a part of a clan like that again, do you understand?” 

Bucky nodded and Natasha continued, “So you have two choices, James. If you can learn to feed responsibly and control your hunger you can be a member of my clan. If you don’t want to face the facts of your situation you’ll be on your own in a city full of things that go bump in the night. Vampires are not the worst creatures waiting in the dark, James. 

“Our power comes with age and our safety comes from our clan.” It sounded like an old adage. Given what Natasha had just told him about her clan, he didn’t necessarily know if he believed her that it was best to join this new one now. “Think about this carefully,” she said as if sensing his thoughts.

“If I… if I join your clan,” Bucky said, feeling a chill go through him with the knowledge of what that would entail. “Would I be able to leave anytime I wanted? Would my family be safe?”

“Yes,” Natasha said. “I promise you, for whatever my word is worth to you. Your family will safer than they’ve ever been in their human lives as soon as they’re under our protection. What you do outside of feeding and interacting with other clans will be your business. Nothing has to change except that you will be required to feed at least once a week for your health and our safety. Steve and I will teach you how to do so without attracting attention or causing any undue suffering or mess. One of us will be with you each time, at least until you acclimate to doing it yourself.” 

And until they trusted him to actually go out on his own, he assumed. He considered asking about the consequences of choosing not to join and dismissed it out of hand. He had a bad feeling he knew what those were and he honestly didn’t want it confirmed.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Bucky told her desperately. 

“We won’t let you,” Natasha vowed as Steve stepped closer to clasp Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky didn’t let himself stiffen or lean in to the point of contact. He wanted even a modicum of comfort so badly, but not from the creature that had attacked him in his own parents’ hallway.

“So, hypothetically, what would be the next step here,” Bucky asked, stepping away from Steve’s hand. 

“We need to register you with the city Council. Do you live in your parents’ building?” Natasha asked. Bucky nodded. “Good,” she said, “that’s one less thing to worry about. Claiming new territory in the city can be a headache,” she said. 

“Of course you could always get permission from another clan to live in their territory,” Steve was quick to point out. “But that can have its own problems.”

“I’ll bet,” Bucky said, trying his damndest not to think the phrase ‘vampire politics’ or wonder what that might involve. Natasha stood and lead them out of the kitchen back towards the front door. 

“So how does this Council thing work?” Bucky asked as they climbed into Natasha’s obviously expensive new car. It was candy apple red, which must have been a custom job, and it was polished like it just came off the line. When Bucky sank into the back seat it was more comfortable than his bed.

“Each clan leader is a member of the council. The five oldest and most powerful are appointed as senators. Senators have certain powers and privileges so try not to cause offense.” Something about the way she said those last two words, “cause offense” made Bucky think she was quoting something. What exactly, he wondered, was the punishment for “causing offense” to a senator? 

“Will I have to meet them?” Bucky asked, trying not to feel small and scared, like a kid watching hulking shapes shift in the shadows of his bedroom.

“No,” Steve said firmly. “I haven’t even met them and I’ve been changed for almost a decade. Well, I mean, I met the one but I didn’t know it at the time and Ruthie really is just the sweetest lady on Earth.”

“You only have to meet the Cartographer,” Natasha said. “But that shouldn’t be a problem for you. He’s not a vampire.” 

“What?” Bucky said. “A human?”

“No,” Natasha said, and then changed the topic and refused to say more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I can be found over at [ my Tumblr](http://heartofthemirror.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Kudos and comments are extremely appreciated! :)


	3. Chapter 3

She drove them for a while, never seeming bothered by the city’s awful traffic. Steve became infuriated every two blocks at some stupid thing or another he saw someone do, despite the fact that he wasn’t the one driving. Bucky sat back quietly and mostly listened in on their conversation, occasionally joining in with a word or two himself. The whole situation still felt surreal, like he could wake up any moment.

Eventually, Natasha pulled up in front of a swanky new office building in Manhattan. A valet opened her door for her and smoothly took her keys to park the car. “There’s nothing to be afraid of Buck,” Steve said when he saw Bucky’s nervous expression. 

“We do this all the time,” Natasha said breezily as the doorman held open the door for them That had to be a lie, Bucky thought. He wasn’t an expert, but it didn’t seem to him that a person with a title for a name was the kind of guy whose office you just popped inside to say hello every so often.

Then again when the elevator came the attendant didn’t even ask what floor they wanted. He just greeted them all in a pleasant but professionally distant way. 

There was something about the way the air around the young, thin man felt that made Bucky think the attendant wasn’t human. But there was no instant awareness that made Bucky think that he was in the presence of another of his kind. Which kind of made sense considering the Cartographer was neither human nor vampire, apparently. Bucky tried not to think about it too hard. 

Natasha and Steve were both perfectly relaxed, which actually did help to soothe some of Bucky’s nerves. He also had a pretty good idea that the faint whiff of otherness around the attendant meant that he was much weaker than a single vampire, let alone three. It was strange to think of people in those inhuman terms though so Bucky just tried to keep his eyes forward and not rattle out of the elevator car with his nervous energy. 

Natasha tipped the boy generously as they got out. He smiled and nodded but didn’t thank her which Bucky found a bit strange, if ultimately unimportant. _He_ wouldn’t have been rude to a lady like Natasha, or any lady at all, but it wasn’t worth an argument.

It wasn’t far to the corner office. Bucky’s heart pounded louder with each step he took. Could Steve and Natasha hear it? He wondered. There was a sense of tension and power in the air, or maybe it was just his anxious mind. Steve’s shoulders seemed a little stiff but Natasha still moved with the grace of silk in the wind, supremely unconcerned. 

The secretary looked up as they entered the waiting area. She had mousy hair and a sharp nose. It was refreshing to see a human, Bucky thought. That’s what his day had come to. “Official business,” Natasha said without bothering to introduce anyone or explain more than that.

“He’s free,” the secretary said, looking back down at the magazine on her desk and flipping a page idly. Natasha narrowed her eyes at the secretary and Bucky wondered what the hell had happened that there was animosity between those two. 

Natasha walked up to the office door and rapped purposefully three times.

“Come in,” a voice deep, sultry man’s voice called. Natasha opened the door and the boys followed her in.

The Cartographer was a young man, approaching his thirties, if that. He had dark olive skin and curly black hair that floated like wisps of ink around his ears. He had an aquiline nose and pouty lips that made Bucky’s heart race a little for reasons that were best not examined, he thought.

The Cartographer might have looked feminine if it weren’t for his strong jaw, chiseled cheekbones, wide shoulders, and the sexy five o’clock shadow that gave his polished look a little rough edge. His ears were pierced with five gold hoops and his hazel, almond shaped eyes sparkled when he smiled and stood to greet Natasha in Russian. 

His dark gray suit was impeccably tailored and the rich dark blue of his shirt really brought out his eyes. There was something about the man that read indulgence and sensuality and Bucky found himself blushing on top of his hammering heart. 

He was no virgin. Before the incident he’d even been self-aware enough to know he enjoyed looking at beautiful men sometimes, though women were much more his speed thank goodness. But he’d never met anyone so unapologetically… sultry.

The Cartographer was shaking Steve’s hand now speaking to Steve in fluent Irish, rhythmic and strange to hear all strung together instead of just in bits and pieces tossed in to spice up the English the way Bucky was used to hearing. It was like a song Bucky knew the melody to, but not the lyrics. What little handful of Irish words his family and neighborhood had been able to keep went by too quickly for him to identify. 

Steve too, was struggling, halting in the middle of his sentences like the words he needed were coins he’d dropped in a dark room and he had to crawl around and feel for them. Steve was blushing, almost as red in the face as Natasha’s car. He was pressing the hand the Cartographer had shaken to his slacks like he could still feel every atom where their skin had touched.

For some reason, this made Bucky livid. Natasha ducked her head to let the cascade of her perfectly curled hair hide her grin.

“And I haven’t had the pleasure of your acquaintance,” the Cartographer said, smiling at Bucky with a polite and friendly warmth like had hadn’t just been feeling up half of Bucky’s clan. Bucky smiled and managed not to say anything stupid. Something about this man crawled right under his skin and made Bucky desperately want to crawl back.

“Okay, you can turn it down now,” Natasha said, smiling despite the seriousness in her eyes. The Cartographer stepped back and held up his hands. All the heady tension in the room drained away in the span of a few moments. All that was left behind was a little extra cheer and warmth like they were all sitting around a hearth together, old friends. 

Bucky’s hand was tingling where the man had touched it like his hands had been covered in peppermint. 

“What was that?” He was dumb enough to ask. The Cartographer grinned. 

“A little taste of my special gifts. If you’d ever like to learn more about it, we can meet up somewhere a little more comfortable to discuss it.” The Cartographer’s smile was so sultry and inviting that even without the haze amplifying his emotions Bucky considered it for one wild moment. 

_Incubus_ he thought wildly, dredging the word up from what little mythology he’d ever been able to keep in his head. Steve had gone stiff beside him. Bucky took this as his cue. “Thanks but I think I’d better not,” he said, smiling nervously. 

“Видишь? Как это будет между ними? Чем больше я толкаю, тем ближе они дрейфуют вместе.” The Cartographer said to Natasha in her native tongue. 

“Стоп,” Natasha said firmly. 

“Right,” the Cartographer said, straightening up in his chair and running his hand over the perfect line of his suit. “Official business. New member of the clan?” 

“James Barnes,” Natasha introduced before Bucky could speak. “Son of Steve’s landlord, so no new territorial claims.” 

“That was a quick change,” the Cartographer remarked offhandedly as he unlocked one of his desk drawers and pulled out a folder marked with Natasha’s name and something else in Cyrillic.

“We didn’t change him, we found him. I’m going to be calling a council meeting to address that tonight. First I’d like everything to be official and on paper. James is one of mine.”

“Duly noted,” the Cartographer said with an expressive lifting of his perfectly sculpted eyebrows. He filled some information in on what looked like a census chart and asked Bucky some standard questions- year he’d been born, date of his change, names and addresses of those he considered kith and kin and who were therefore under his clan’s protection. Bucky named his family, who all lived with him, some aunts and uncles and cousins and Becca’s boyfriend Tom who’d been going steady with her for almost three years now. They would probably marry when they graduated high school. 

“Ugh,” the Cartographer said, falling back in his chair and flexing his pen hand ostentatiously like it was cramped. “Young ones. So many connections and interconnections.” 

“Was that too many?” Bucky asked Natasha, low key panicking. He couldn’t take any of his family off the list. He wouldn’t.

“No,” she said firmly. “I’m older and stronger than I look. Every member of my clan and all their blood ties will be safe. I won’t allow anything less.” 

“Yes," The Cartographer said dryly, "Her reputation preceds her." Natasha shot the Cartographer a dirty look and he changed tracls. "There’s no official limit to how many a clan can protect. Only their own resources and reputation can determine that. These papers are just in case their need to be any legal proceedings with the council,” The Cartographer told Bucky, smiling charmingly, and resting his cheek in his palm as he leaned over his desk.

“I have so many stories about the old cities if you ever want to hear them, my darling child. Have you yet heard about the days when all hunting was forbidden within the walls of bella Roma? Or the sirens of ancient-”

“No, but me and Natasha can probably fill him in. Don’t worry about it,” Steve said smiling tightly. And that alone was enough to break the spell that had been washing over Bucky like a warm ocean tide, pulling him back into those hazel eyes and making him imagine the warmth of that lithe muscular body against his.

“You really have to stop doing that,” Bucky complained, gripping the hair at his temple like that would make the unnatural feelings abate any more quickly. The Cartographer just moved his hand to cover his smile and looked away from Natasha who was also doing her best not to grin at Steve’s salty expression beside Bucky’s dazed one.

“Will you spread the word?” Natasha asked, “about the Council meeting?”

“Of course, Miss Romanova,” The Cartographer replied with what could only be described as a flourish of courtesy. “If you would please sign here?”

And with only a cursory scan Natasha jotted down her name at the bottom of the census paper.

“And you, Mr. Rogers, as her second,” The Cartographer indicated, handing the paper and the fountain pen to Steve who signed it without hesitation.

“Mr. Barnes, I’m obliged to inform you that your clan is now legally bound to protect those here listed and that if for any reason they should fail to do so, and you would like to take legal action, you may come to my office at any hour of day or night.” The Cartographer winked. Bucky genuinely wondered if he extended that offer to everyone who sat across a desk from him. How very like an Incubus that would be, Bucky thought wildly, as if he really knew the first damn thing about Incubuses (Incubi? Maybe?).

It suddenly hit Bucky that this was more than an initiation. This was like a marriage or an adoption. These people- these vampires- were Bucky's family now. In their eyes he was one of them as much as he was one of the Barnes Clan, always welcome at Winifred and George's table and their home. 

Well, he thought forlornly, always welcome so long as they never knew any part of the truth about what and who he really was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Please kick back a kudos or a comment! That AO3 email really makes my day guys :)
> 
> Anyone interested in being a beta? Drop a comment and let me know!


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